A Scummy Alpha and An Award-Winning Omega Actress Fell in Love After an Arranged Marriage - Chapter 60

The end of filming meant separation, but few felt the weight of it in the moment.

The second Director Cheng shouted “Cut!”, a massive cheer erupted across the set. Fueled by the “farewell meal” atmosphere, Sheng Lan and Meng Qing remained fully in character, celebrating louder than anyone else, like two monkeys finally released from the Five-Fingered Mountain.

Ji Xinlan was equally direct, she had had enough of the filming atmosphere. To her, a dating show that turned into whatever that was was beyond her. She was gleeful and couldn’t wait to leave.

The Bing Tang CP said their goodnights politely. They would have plenty of opportunities to share the stage in the future and would undoubtedly continue to use their “CP” status for hype. For them, the end of the live broadcast was a relief. Even Yan Bing seemed to regain a touch of human warmth, dropping her “Ice Queen” facade to chat with Tang Yingyue about mundane things like catching up on sleep, skincare, and hair treatments.

Lu Xueyin stood to the side, a “cold observer.” Despite years in the industry and dealing with dozens of people daily, she remained unskilled at socializing. In crowded settings, to hide her insecurity, she would adopt an air of calm indifference, a “don’t mind me, I’m fine alone” look that, combined with her natural persona, made her seem unapproachably cool.

Even now, several staff members wanted to ask for a photo but were frozen by her chilly aura. One minute hadn’t even passed before Sheng Lan leaned in.

“Sister, are you unhappy?”

Lu Xueyin acknowledged her. “What is there to be happy about?” Her voice was steady, but in the midst of the celebration, it sounded lonely.

Lu Xueyin planned to leave. Usually, people stayed to network and maintain professional relationships. She felt she had nothing to maintain. She turned and added, fueled by a lingering bit of dissatisfaction: “As long as you’re happy.”

Sheng Lan blinked, her mind racing. She realized with a silent laugh: If you can’t bear to leave me, just say so. Why be so difficult?

But she couldn’t say that aloud. Instead, she said, “Mm, I’m here to share the happiness with you.” She called Meng Qing over to take photos of them. Lu Xueyin barely managed a smile, she truly couldn’t find one. She didn’t understand how Sheng Lan could feel zero sentimentality.

Sheng Lan looked at her, feeling a mix of amusement and heartache. She whispered: “From now on, there are no cameras watching us. And no one listening to us sleep at night.”

Lu Xueyin understood instantly. Under the night lights, a flush of red spread across her snowy skin.

Because this show held great significance for them, and they had already reached a silent understanding after the marking, they weren’t in a hurry to flee. Lu Xueyin followed Sheng Lan, the ultimate social butterfly as she thanked the crew.

After countless photos and autographs, they finally reached the manor gates to meet the waiting reporters and fans. It was a dangerous night; “sasaeng” fans and paparazzi would surely follow their cars. However, it was also a safe night due to a psychological blind spot: any behavior tonight could be interpreted as “over-performing” to maintain CP heat for the upcoming edited version of the show.

So, after the interviews, Sheng Lan quite brazenly followed Lu Xueyin into her van.

Jiang Ling, looking up from her folders, saw a slender dark shadow that resolved into Sheng Lan. Sheng Lan sat next to Lu Xueyin, her left hand draped casually over the armrest between them, her fingers just barely brushing Lu Xueyin’s arm. Jiang Ling suppressed her urge to kick Sheng Lan out, silently closed her folder, and moved to a different seat.

“What are you doing here?” Lu Xueyin asked.

Sheng Lan mimicked Lu Xueyin’s cold face with exaggerated drama. “What is there for me to do?”

Lu Xueyin slapped the back of her hand. Sheng Lan grinned. “I’m coming home with you.”

Sheng Lan had never been in love before. Based on how she maintained friendships, she felt today was not a day for “giving each other space.”

She knew Lu Xueyin was the type who was cold on the outside but warm on the inside rational in appearance, but deeply sensitive. If they truly went their separate ways tonight, Lu Xueyin would accumulate mountains of doubt. She would worry everything during the show was fake. She would regret her bold moves. She would overthink Sheng Lan’s opinion of her.

Sheng Lan realized that for a sensitive, over-thinker like Lu Xueyin, being alone tonight would be a disadvantage. She didn’t want to gamble with Lu Xueyin’s heart. She cared too much.

Lu Xueyin didn’t respond directly, but she told the driver to start the car.

As Lu Xueyin looked down, Sheng Lan turned her palm upward on the seat between them. Jiang Ling and her assistant were busy discussing work schedules, clearly signaling they had no intention of noticing the back seat. Lu Xueyin, still nervous, glanced up several times before gently resting her hand in Sheng Lan’s.

The moment they touched, Sheng Lan gripped her hand tightly. Lu Xueyin reacted like a startled cat, instinctively wanting to bolt, then forcing herself to stay still, her racing heart betraying her.

It was strange. It was just a hand-hold.

Sheng Lan didn’t check her pulse to expose her. She just chatted about mundane things: catching up on sleep, gathering with friends, work plans, family. Without the cameras, the “ordinary” things didn’t sound boring at all. Eventually, in the warmth of Sheng Lan’s melodic voice, Lu Xueyin fell asleep.

The drive was long. Sheng Lan stayed awake, using one hand to coordinate with her manager, Liang Jiao. Liang Jiao was in the car behind them; she would enter the complex with them, coordinate with Jiang Ling, and then leave to create the illusion that Sheng Lan hadn’t stayed over.

Lu Xueyin slept deeply. When they arrived, Jiang Ling called out several times to wake her. For Jiang Ling, Sheng Lan’s persona still wasn’t enough to drop her guard. She felt Lu Xueyin might be blinded by her feelings, so she had to stay alert.

Under Jiang Ling’s pointed gaze, Sheng Lan got out of the car first.

In the large parking lot, Liang Jiao didn’t hide her smirk. “Looks like you’re riding back in my car tonight.”

Sheng Lan didn’t argue. But the communication inside the van was faster than she expected. Before she could move, the door opened. Lu Xueyin, refreshed from her nap, stepped out with a sharp, lively glint in her eyes.

“Let’s go,” Lu Xueyin said. “Home.”

Sheng Lan’s face broke into a wide smile.

This was the apartment where Sheng Lan stayed most often, but it was Lu Xueyin who held the key to the door. Perhaps due to the tension of being alone or her unfamiliarity with the place, she fumbled with the lock before realizing she hadn’t pushed the key in far enough.

Sheng Lan told her the smart lock code. Lu Xueyin had known it but hadn’t bothered to memorize it before. Back then, she didn’t think she would stay long.

The apartment felt a bit cold after being empty, but Jiang Ling had already sent someone to clean it. It was spotless and even sprayed with pheromone deodorizer. Very thorough.

As they took off their shoes, Sheng Lan sensed Lu Xueyin’s “business mode” kicking in, an awkwardness of not knowing how to act in private, so she defaulted to a slightly provocative, bold intimacy from the show.

Lu Xueyin placed a hand on Sheng Lan’s shoulder for balance. The way she shifted her weight as she swapped shoes caused her palm to knead Sheng Lan’s shoulder with a hesitant yet firm pressure. The soft fabric of her shirt felt coarse and abrasive against Sheng Lan’s skin, making her want to squirm. Instead, she just lowered her shoulder slightly and looked at her.

Sheng Lan had always believed that love was irrational. She used that as a basis for her lyrics, thinking that everyone has moments where logic fails.

She knew being alone tonight carried the danger of crossing lines that might scare Lu Xueyin away. But when their eyes met, her rationality crumbled. A seductive thought rose in her mind: If I’m too rational, does it mean I don’t like her enough?

Sheng Lan leaned in toward Lu Xueyin’s pale pink lips, seeing her own tiny reflection in Lu Xueyin’s green eyes. Neither of them pulled away. When their lips finally touched, it was a tentative, lingering exploration, a shared spark that only made them bolder.

The surging desire broke like a landslide, fierce and unstoppable; the restraint she had struggled to maintain crumbled instantly. The hands that had been resting on Sheng Lan’s shoulders did not push her away. Instead, Lu Xueyin pulled her into a tight embrace.

They groped blindly, guided by instinct, like restless travelers craving comfort. In the frantic scuffle, their hands brushed against warm, soft skin, treating it like a precious treasure—dreading to press too hard, yet unable to stop their fingers from wandering deep.

As they exchanged breaths, pheromones seized the opening, triggering a deeper craving that led them to drop all defenses. They surrendered their caution, navigating this private territory with reckless abandon, taking and giving as they pleased.

When Sheng Lan finally completed the marking, she heard Lu Xueyin’s voice, thick with a sob and laced with confusion: “Did you… take your medicine beforehand?”

Sheng Lan froze, momentarily infected by that same confusion. It wasn’t until she had finished cleaning Lu Xueyin up and watched her fall asleep in the crook of her arm that she let out a soft laugh.

An Alpha’s energy has a peculiar “elasticity.” As long as there is a spark of mental pleasure or stimulation, they can recover instantly. Sheng Lan had stayed awake all night, agonizing over whether she should be the “sensible” one and get up early to make breakfast, or the “considerate” one and wait for Lu Xueyin to wake up.

At this moment, she deeply felt the influence of love: it had robbed her of her decisiveness and replaced it with overthinking. Even a small matter made her hesitate—getting up early could avoid the awkwardness after intimacy, but staying in bed provided a sense of security.

When she finally noticed Lu Xueyin showing signs of waking, Sheng Lan used every ounce of willpower to keep from pretending to be asleep just to avoid that first morning gaze.

She discovered a magical reaction: all those strange little worries and insecurities vanished the moment she met Lu Xueyin’s eyes.

“Good morning, Sister,” Sheng Lan said, her voice trailing upward in a cheerful lilt.

“Good morning,” Lu Xueyin replied, her tone equally light.

After breakfast, they finalized their schedules to visit the nursing home. Lu Xueyin was incredibly well-behaved while picking her clothes to see her mother, choosing a simple denim-blue square-neck dress.

Sheng Lan, feeling impulsive, decided to try a “good girl” style herself. She picked a sweet pink knee-length dress from the closet—a birthday gift from Wei Wan that Lu Xueyin had only worn once. Sheng Lan tied her pink hair into a bun and lightened her makeup, rounding her nose and softening her features. Without speaking, she looked like a total “sweetheart.”

When Lu Xueyin emerged, she was stunned.

“When do you plan to go to the cemetery?” Sheng Lan asked while driving.

Lu Xueyin shook her head. “I won’t have time soon. I’m joining the film crew right after the promotions. You don’t have to come with me specially; there will be other chances to see him.” Sheng Lan nodded, saying no more.

At the nursing home, Wei Wan looked at Sheng Lan in the pink dress and smiled, teasing them: “You should take some time to get used to married life.”

Lu Xueyin grew flustered, leaving the conversation to the thick-skinned Sheng Lan. Sheng Lan even asked about Lu Xueyin’s likes and dislikes right in front of her.

As they talked, Wei Wan sighed, admitting she had worried since the day she first proposed the marriage alliance to the Sheng family. “I was afraid you wouldn’t get along. I was also afraid Sheng Lan’s temper was too fierce and she would take out her resentment for me on you, Xiao Xue.”

Once her heart was at ease, Wei Wan’s exhaustion caught up with her, and she soon fell into a deep sleep.

In the afternoon, they split up for work. Afterward, Lu Xueyin began moving her things with Jiang Ling’s help. Although she was reluctant, she knew that for two high-profile stars, living together during a career peak was risky. However, her move was half-hearted—she left behind enough toiletries and clothes to signal her return.

“You’ve been acting for years,” Jiang Ling reminded her. “You know what ‘on-set couples’ are. Feelings built during a collaboration often vanish once the filter is gone.”

“I understand,” Lu Xueyin nodded. Whether they went public or not depended on Sheng Lan.

That night was their first night living apart since the show ended. At 12:30 AM, Sheng Lan replied to a message Lu Xueyin had sent two hours earlier.

[Mountain Wind]: You really could have gone to sleep earlier.

Lu Xueyin had changed her nickname to “Kou Jin” (a deconstruction of the characters in her name). She replied instantly: I’m reading a script.

The implication was that she wasn’t waiting up on purpose. Sheng Lan, slumped in the back of her car, smiled and suggested a time to go home for dinner to meet her own parents. She added: We might stay the night.

The conversation turned to the trending topics online. [Kou Jin]: They say we’re heartless. That as soon as we’re “on vacation,” we stop contacting each other. They say our professional skills at making “fake sugar” are high, but our debt to the CP world for actual effort is eighteen buckets deep.

Sheng Lan found it hilarious and invited Lu Xueyin to “clock in” for some business. She logged on and tagged Lu Xueyin under the starry sky, writing: “The moon is beautiful tonight.”

But Sheng Lan had to admit, when it came to the art of the “straight ball,” she was outmatched.

Lu Xueyin’s retweet was simple and blunt: “Thinking of you.”

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